


Postcards from Home

by aurilly



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Epistolary, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-17
Updated: 2008-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-02 12:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/pseuds/aurilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mohinder and Molly take a vacation to India, and Mohinder finds himself having a much-delayed little breakdown. Stuff happens to snap him out of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Postcards from Home

“Mohinder! There’s a package for you!” Mohinder’s mother called as she opened the door to Mohinder’s still-darkened bedroom.

It was only 8:28am, definitely too early to be receiving packages of any kind. He simply rolled over and put the pillow over his head. It had been a long time---how many months was it now?---since his life had taken such a dramatic turn. Now, finally, he was back in India for a well-deserved vacation from his life in New York.

“Leave me alone,” he grumbled. “I’ll look at it later.”

“But the FedEx man said it was urgent, that he ran here to make sure it arrived before the 8:30am guarantee. So you should probably open it now.”

Mohinder growled loudly, and reached a hand out from under the covers without looking at her.

“Really, Mohinder. I think you’re old enough to stop being such a grouch in the mornings. I don’t know how Molly puts up with it. She’s been awake for over an hour. Sometimes I wonder if _she’s_ actually the one taking care of _you_.” Mohinder’s mother found the entire concept of her son with a little girl ridiculous, but that hadn’t stopped her from fussing over Molly all day, every day so far. Her mothering of the little girl had been made even easier by the complete state of dissipation Mohinder had fallen into since arriving a few days before; it was as if the exhaustion and depression he had managed to stave off and repress in New York was finally freed, and he was wallowing in it. Mohinder had barely left his bedroom, much less the house. The females were at wits end about him, and kept trying to tempt him out of his mood with various tricks, none of which had worked.

Grumbling, Mohinder moved and ripped the package open. Still standing in the doorway, his mother became concerned when she saw the look of confusion that covered her son’s face. “What is it?”

“It’s empty. Someone sent me an empty package.” Mohinder turned the envelope over and peered at the return address in the darkness of the curtained room. “It’s from New York. Someone sent me an empty package guaranteed AM delivery.”

“Is that bad?” his mother asked. Mohinder had told her very little of what his life was like in New York, and he had obviously instructed Molly to do the same, for she couldn’t get a word out of the tot. But she knew her son well enough to know that he was changed, scared, and even more defensive than he had been before. Even without knowing the details, it was clear that serious things must have happened.

Mohinder was stroking the package thoughtfully. “I have no idea. If you don’t mind, I’m going back to bed.”

“Well, _do_ try to get up before noon,” she sighed upon withdrawing.

Mohinder opened the curtains and stretched. This package had made him nervous. This seemed like the sort of thing Sylar would do to let him know that he knew where Mohinder was. Or maybe Bennet was trying to signal him? Mohinder had no idea. This was the last thing he needed to deal with. He was already suffering from a minor breakdown as it was.

At least an hour later, still lolling depressively in his room, he checked the envelope one more time. Now that it was lighter, he actually _did_ see something in there. He reached in and pulled out a postcard, on one side of which was a picture of a crazy-haired Albert Einstein making a particularly silly face.

  
__   
Hey, doc. How’s it hanging?  
xoxo  
Elle

Mohinder laughed out loud. All that worry, and for what? A postcard from his ridiculous Company partner. What a waste of money.

But all the same, the laugh helped him manage to pull it together enough to make it to breakfast while the others were still at table. Molly and his mother both remarked on the vague smile he wore.

“What’s with you, Mohinder?” Molly asked.

“Nothing,” he said. Then on impulse he added, “How about I take you to the beach today?” Inexplicably, for the first time since he had been back home, he felt like doing something touristy with Molly. She grinned. They took the car to Breezy Beach in Valmiki Nagar and spent the day making sand castles. Mohinder even found the energy to play with her in the waves. Molly hadn’t been in the ocean since before her parents had died. They returned home late, a tired pair.

The next day, the same thing happened. Mohinder’s mother crept apologetically into his room at 8:29 to deliver another envelope. This time, instead of snapping at her, Mohinder took the package with a smile and pulled it under the sheets with him.

“I take it this doesn’t mean anything bad?” she asked.

“No, everything’s fine,” he replied and waited impatiently for her to leave. He didn’t know why he didn’t want her to know about this. It was harmless, but he wanted his little secrets.

  
__  
Miss me yet?  
You know you do.  
XXXo  
Elle

Mohinder guffawed when he turned the card over to look at the picture of a nude man getting struck by lightning. It was a scandal.

He got out of bed and decided for some reason that today was the day he should introduce Molly to a couple of his old grammar school friends and their children. He hadn’t seen them since he’d been back.

Going to and fro between different houses, Mohinder passed the FedEx office about four times. He eyed it each time, but shook his head and kept moving. Finally, when he took Molly to a bookstore to get her some new coloring books, he couldn’t help but wander over to the postcard rack and finger the different images on display. He picked up a particularly attractive shot of Chennai University, where he and his father had once taught.

“Who are you sending that to?” Molly always kept a protective eye out for her guardian.

Mohinder thought for a minute. “A friend back in New York.”

“You don’t have any friends,” Molly stated in that blunt way children have.

“That’s quite rude,” he admonished, but secretly felt vulnerable.

Molly shrugged. “Well, you don’t.” And she went back to the children’s book section. That exchange was almost enough to change Mohinder’s mind about the whole thing, but he forced himself to go ahead with his plan and not feel insecure. While Molly was distracted, Mohinder purchased the card and asked for a paper bag to put it in. Feeling like an idiot, he borrowed a pen and wrote.

  
_   
Things are going well here. I hope they are with you, as well.  
Why are you overnighting me postcards?   
_   


He mulled for a moment over how to sign it. When she wasn’t calling him “doc” she usually called him Suresh. That would do, given that he really ought to keep things professional, just in case. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Molly piling up the things she wanted him to purchase; she was surely on her way back to him, so he needed to hurry.

  
_   
Best,  
Mohinder   
_   


He had meant to write Suresh, but... well, it was too late now. Mohinder quickly put the card in the paper bag and put the bag in his pocket. “Come on, we have to make a stop before dinner,” he told her after purchasing her books.

On the way back to the house, Mohinder finally entered the FedEx office and filled out a slip for the Hartsdale facility. Thankfully, Molly was too engrossed with her new purchases to pay any attention to what he was putting in the envelope. “Can you send this…” he thought for a minute, struggling with himself to be reasonable, despite the fact that the entire situation was very silly. “Second day delivery?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the clerk, and began processing the order.

“No, actually, send it guaranteed 8:30am delivery,” Mohinder blurted impulsively.

“Yes, sir,” replied the clerk, and changed the label. “That will be 1600 more rupees.”

Mohinder balked, but forked over the money anyway.

“So, what’s that about?” Molly asked as they made their way outside.

Mohinder had a sinking feeling. “Work,” he sighed, and felt ridiculous.

The next morning, Mohinder was sitting up in bed with the curtains open when his mother came in.

“Give it here,” he demanded, and jumped out of the bed to grab it out of her hand.

“I think I spoiled you,” she said jokingly, not actually taking him seriously. He was usually only this rude in jest, and this was one of those times. But she exited the room anyway, knowing well enough by now to leave her son alone with his precious package. Mohinder gave the end a sharp pull.

This time there was a photo of a sad-looking puppy with the most pathetic brown eyes.

  
_   
What, nothing? That hurts, Suresh.  
:-(   
_   


 

It had been irrational of him to expect a response to his card today, and he now kicked himself for having entertained any expectations---of what, he now couldn’t even say.

The sad puppy haunted him all day. Molly seemed to have some sixth sense about his mood, too, for she decided to return to the well-worn theme of “but _why _can’t we get a puppy, Mohinder?” It almost worked, too, until he finally came to his senses.

“Because, Molly, people like us do not get puppies. We get tasers. Now stop this nonsense, and have some ice cream.”

The ice cream successfully produced his favorite thing: a mollified Molly. But he still felt bad for no particular reason. She would get it by the next day and not feel disappointed, right? Mohinder wasn’t sure why he cared so much, and tried to convince himself that his nutty friend (friend?) back home didn’t actually care.

Nevertheless, he found himself pulling a very smooth move as they passed a sidewalk stall. Without breaking his stride, Mohinder thrust some money into the vendor’s hand and transferred a postcard of the Taj Mahal from the rack to his pocket. Molly didn’t notice, and the merchant simply looked confused, but pleased. Mohinder had grossly overpaid.

“More work? I thought you were on vacation,” Molly complained when they again found themselves entering the FedEx office.

“It’ll only take a minute. Here, take my phone and call Amma to tell her we’re on our way home. Tell her about the nice day we had at Vandalur Zoo.” Mohinder waited until Molly had turned around and walked to the window for better reception before taking the postcard out of his pocket.

  
_   
You should have received my first note by the time you read this.   
_   


Mohinder looked at what he had written and lamented how literal and dull he was. Elle and Molly were right; he needed to loosen up a bit. Mohinder tried to think of something teasing and jovial to add.

  
__  
  
:-)  
Mohinder  
PS- Does your father know what you’re up to?

“Guaranteed 8:30, like yesterday, please,” he requested at the counter.

The next morning, a shaven and mostly dressed Mohinder emerged from his room at 8:28 just as his mother was starting down the hallway.

“Mohinder! I haven’t seen you up at such an hour since… well, never.”

Mohinder smiled as he took his package. Today was the day for a response to his response. “Good morning, mother. I was thinking, why don’t Molly and I take you out to tea this afternoon?”

His mother beamed at him and kissed him on the brow. “The grump is gone and my dear boy has returned.”

Mohinder was grateful for the affection, but was also distracted by what was in his hands. “Hmm, now if you don’t mind...”

“Yes, yes, I’ll leave you alone. I know the drill. Honestly, you get so excited about these secret envelopes. If I didn’t know better, from the glow on your face every morning, I would suspect---”

“I’ll be there in a minute, mother,” Mohinder interrupted with a confirming blush, and turned back to enter his room.

  
__  
That’s more like it!  
But god, you’re such a stiff.  
Anyway, next time will be a surprise.  
Get excited.  
L.

Mohinder furrowed his brow and felt less thrilled than he had irrationally hoped to feel. He was getting used to the routine, and was starting to love it. His life contained far too many unpleasant and random surprises; he wasn’t sure he could deal with more. For the first time in a few days, worry was returning, no matter how silly he told himself he was being. The worry was reflected in today’s response, scribbled nervously in the lobby store of the Taj hotel while the women were in the bathroom after tea.

  
_   
I don’t like surprises.   
_   


As soon as he wrote it, he realized how harsh that sounded. He would have started over again, but he had purchased the very last postcard in the store, some stupidly stereotypical and borderline offensive picture of belly-dancers. Crossing out what he had written wouldn’t make it any better, and he knew Elle would mock him endlessly if he used white-out. As all of these thoughts ran through his head, Mohinder wondered what was he doing, stressing out about a stupid postcard? As if the fate of the world weren’t stressful enough. And yet, this inexplicably meant a lot to him. He tried to think of something he could add to lighten the mood of what had already been written. So he added:

  
_   
(Can’t wait)  
M.   
_   


He was sealing the envelope when they returned.

“Everything alright, Mohinder?” his mother asked.

“Everything’s fine,” he replied.

He worked himself up into such a state that he found himself unable to sleep past seven the next morning. After awhile spent tossing and turning, Mohinder got dressed and went to watch television, something he hadn’t done in years. He watched mindless American sitcoms until Molly bounded into the room and started babbling excitedly. This distracted him enough to actually not notice when 8:30 came and went.

At ten, he excused himself from breakfast and went to call the FedEx office. They said that no packages were recorded as having been sent to him. Was this the surprise she was talking about? Now that he faced facts, Mohinder realized with a sinking feeling that it made sense. That was Elle all over, hot and cold, pulling you in just to push you away. Making you care only to be able to taunt you. He’d started playing her game, and only now that it had been taken away from him, he realized how much fun he’d been having. Maybe Molly had been right; he didn’t have any friends. For a few days, he had started to believe that maybe… only to be reminded that he didn’t. Neither Molly nor his mother seemed to even notice, which made the whole thing even more infuriating; he couldn’t even vent about his nonsensical disappointment.

“What should we do today, Mohinder?” Molly jumped on his lap to ask. She’d gotten used to a more active and involved Mohinder over the past few days. Looking at her as she interrupted his inner monologue, he suddenly realized that despite what he was feeling right now, his nervous breakdown had ended days before. Not even this setback could wholly cramp his style. That was something.

“It’s raining, so we can’t do anything interesting outside. How about you and me making lunch for Amma?”

“With the copper pots?” Molly had a strange fascination with them that Mohinder didn’t understand. Just another one of those youthful irrationalities, he reminded himself.

“Sure, whatever you want.”

A couple of hours later, as they were setting out their extravagant feast, the doorbell rang.

“Maybe you _did_ get a package today, Mohinder!” his mother called.

Had Elle actually learned thrift and sent it normal express? Mohinder wondered this as he went to open the door, and felt pathetic about how excited he was getting all over again.

“I smell food. Thank god, because I’m freaking _starved_. What’cha cooking, Mo?” Mohinder was hit in the face with a head’s worth of long blond hair as Elle sauntered through the door and straight into the house as if she owned the place.

He rolled his eyes and grinned.


End file.
